


Galéné

by whimsicalfey



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Female My Unit | Kamui | Corrin, but azura can, corrin can't control her dragon self
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalfey/pseuds/whimsicalfey
Summary: Corrin’s emotions -- all her rage and her grief, her chaos -- swirling within the dangerous, roaring dragon within… She can’t control them. She can’t control herself.But Azura can.All it takes is a word, a hum... a caress.





	1. Grief

_ galéné -- [ancient greek] calmness; stillness of the sea; a calm _

 

* * *

 

 

Her grief for her mother is so primal, so raw, it awakens something deep and _roaring_ in her core. She can’t control when it takes hold of her by the edges, like claws sinking into her mind, as it rips through her like a wave of fury and _agony_.

 

It’s not a physical agony, like the bruises that mark her skin or the wounds of the scars across her body. No. It’s all emotional, and mental, and as loud as a thousand roaring crowds even as her flesh literally sears into scales like glistening metal -- as discs like the sharpest swords snap from her back as wings.

 

In that moment, when her human form fades away into sleekness and power, Corrin knows what she is.

 

But she knows nothing else.

 

Nothing but the pain, and the memory of a soft, gentle smile -- lost forever. Lost to the part deep inside herself that never forgot its warmth; that is buried so deeply when it emerges it’s suddenly and violently and carrying all the agony of losing a part of itself.

 

Corrin remembers rage, like boiling fire.

 

Then she remembers waking, body aching like Xander had punished her for grueling weeks… Her eyes burn, blurry, and there’s a deep, resounding ache in her chest… As if she’s sobbed until she has no tears left, no agony left to burn.

 

The carnage around her feels so distant. So surreal.

 

The warning in Ryoma’s eyes doesn’t. Nor the horror, in Sakura’s -- the wariness in Hinoka’s as she brings her younger sister closer. The _hatred_ in Takumi’s.

 

The fear.

 

_What…?_

 

That hostility tingles beneath Corrin’s skin, an anxiety, and it’s instinctive to tremble, to stagger back. Her emotions flare and sway, like a dizziness she can’t shake. Her legs -- soft and human -- feel almost foreign as they fold and tremble beneath her…

 

Her ears are buzzing loudly, and she knows it’s her siblings speaking -- shouting and calling -- but it’s a blur. All a blur. It’s agitating. Confining.

 

But then she hears it -- the humming.

 

It’s soft and low, barely a murmur, but it’s almost as if it’s tuned to her ears. Corrin feels herself immediately turn, her ears straining -- her heart tuning into its steady vibrations.

 

She looks into misty golden eyes.

 

“It’s all right, Corrin,” Azura whispers, stepping closer.

 

There is a distance between them, but Corrin hears her -- sees the calmness in her step, senses the gentle words, feels the way the princess’ voice hums inside her chest.

 

And she calms.


	2. Chapter 2

When Azura was a breath away from death -- the claws of a beast at her neck, ivory horns darkened with a man’s blood just gracing her cheek -- she was calm.

 

Utterly calm.

 

Later, she will worry, just a bit, at how serene that moment was for her -- how when faced with it, the prospect of death was only met with a soft sigh; a little pang of regret. How she just wished that if she was to die, it wouldn’t be by a Corrin lost to madness, who would torture herself with the grief and the guilt of what she had done for the rest of her life.

 

Even then, Azura knew enough of her to know that much.

 

And yet, she came forward anyway.

 

She remembers stepping toward the creature, feral and dangerous -- remembers how Ryoma moved jerkily to stop her, as if she was insane to. And maybe she was. Azura wasn’t herself, in that moment. Something had come over her -- a wave of feeling that wasn’t her own.

 

The creature that had once been Corrin was undoubtedly feral, and out of control -- a wild animal, driven by feeling and instinct and twice as deadly for it. But when Azura had looked into its gaze, eyeless but clearly looking back at Azura… she felt its pain, like a sharp lance of emotion through her heart, from her collar -- where her pendent lay, bare and icy against her skin.

 

Anger, rage, fear.

 

_ Grief _ .

 

And a surge of pity flooded through her, of sympathy. The emotion flooded Azura’s raw ones, the grief surging high and above her pain and disbelief in the wake of the loss of her guardian. And Azura almost wasn’t in control of herself, either, when she took that step forward, and the next. She doesn’t even consciously remember why she began singing, or why she thought it would help -- except for that it was all she could do.

 

Looking back, she remembers her mother’s half-whispered words, in the night. Of her song, and how it’s sung to bring dragons back from darkness.

 

Sometimes she forgets, having so long thought of Anankos as a  _ monster  _ \-- evil and malice incarnate, and of her nightmares -- that he is also a dragon.

 

But her mother’s necklace lit with a hum, glowing, and within moments, she felt the creature’s response -- more felt than saw, as it turned back to her once again, all of its attention like a force of energy against her bones. All that rage, all that anger.

 

And then the ground hit her, hard, knocking the breath from her lungs -- and the creature was above her.

 

It’s difficult to describe, what it feels like, to feel the heat of that emotion so close -- an indescribable force of emotion that blazed fiercely, so tinted with madness. She can’t describe it, and not for the first time, she is grateful no one will ask.

 

But Azura will not forget it.

 

It’s what’s at the forefront of her mind, not her brush with death, when the scales burn back into soft skin, and Corrin stumbles back from the ashes. She is so impossibly small, in the space where the massive creature had once stood. But in her eyes, Azura can see just as much confusion -- just as much distress.

 

It pulls at her chest, and Azura doesn’t need her mother’s pendant for the feeling, this time.

 

She doesn’t hesitate.

 

She knows Ryoma is behind her, on edge -- almost trying to stop her, again -- and Sakura is still trembling in fear for her. But Corrin is not a danger anymore, and as she hums gently, as much as doesn’t hurt her bruising throat, she knows it.

 

Even without scales, Corrin responds to the song, but with her emotions much quieter, with the rage having bled out of her with her other body… she doesn’t jerk back, in rebellion. Instead, she almost melts.

 

The girl falls to her knees, joints falling lifeless against stone.

 

Azura’s back aches like fire, her knees weak, as she closes the small distance. But somehow, she feels that the blow she took -- an aura-enforced strike -- is less than what Corrin has taken.

 

_ Rage, anger, fear. Grief. _

 

The girl is trembling violently, Azura can see, as she shakily lowers to her knees in front of her. Her face is lowered, silver locks hiding her red eyes. Azura lets her humming go silent, but the song still reverberates through Azura, giving her a sense of calm, and before she thinks better of it, she reaches her hand to brush against Corrin’s cheek.

 

It’s briefly, but the girl seems to jerk to life at the touch -- enough for Azura to come to herself and snatch her hand back, wincing at her forwardness.

 

But then, that almost seems ridiculous, after something that felt so strangely intimate.

 

“Are you all right, Corrin?” she whispers.

 

Corrin’s red eyes seem misty, but Azura feels a twinge of relief, that they are no longer swirling with confusion and that hazy tide of madness. She raises her head, but her eyes don’t meet Azura’s -- they drift just below, across her left cheek.

 

Azura’s hand follows it, touching beneath her eye with a sting -- a long, jagged cut.

 

Her arms must be similarly marked, with their similar stings, but it’s all shallow, really -- from being knocked to a ground of gravel and debris. When Corrin’s eyes flit down to her neck, likely purpling with bruising, they seem to flash with realization. Her face twists, almost in horror.

 

“It’s all right, Corrin,” she repeats softly. “Are you fine?”

 

“Oh, Gods,” she says, looking down at her hands, their shaking renewed. Her eyes are sharp, now, fully, but with self-loathing. “I’m - I’m fine. Just -- disgusted with myself. Oh, Gods, are  _ you _  okay?”

 

Azura gentles her expression, and nods.

 

“I am,” she says, to reassure her. The girl is not so, but she is herself, and that is relief enough for all of the royal family around them -- and they surround her quickly.

 

Later, after Azura explains half-thought theories, of what Corrin is -- ones Ryoma is in awe of -- she will wonder. She will think of things her mother said to her, so long ago -- piece together ones Mikoto did not say -- and realize that Corrin is much more like her than she could have thought.

 

And in the coming months, when more of what Corrin is comes to light, and what it means for her… Azura’s song, and her presence, become far more important than she could have realized. It is… fortunate, she will think, that one of the only people alive to calm Corrin is near enough to help at the time she needs it most, and is so willing.

 

More willing than she will ever admit, in time.

 

It feels, like the Queen used to say, like fate.


End file.
